


A Shop On the South Side

by SullenDragon



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Pre-Slash, because they’re great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 03:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SullenDragon/pseuds/SullenDragon
Summary: Jim Ellison has seen ten doctors. None of them have any answers. He suffers bouts of oversensitivity, but a chance encounter with a problem-solving barista may change all that. [excerpt]





	A Shop On the South Side

Sacred Grounds’ coffee was the _worst_ coffee Jim had ever encountered. Simon seemed to have no problem with it, but Jim’s coffee was about to burn the roof right off his mouth. At least his vision was okay; he could live without coffee.

“Coffee alright, sir?” the barista, Blair, asked, noticing the full mug before Jim..

“Yeah, Jim. Never seen you turn your nose up at coffee on someone else’s dime,” Simon prodded. He was eyeing Jim with a sort of weary resignation. If Jim didn’t figure out what was wrong with him…

Blair closed the till and sat down at a nearby table.

“Drop it, Simon,” Jim said.

“Did I make it wrong?” Blair persisted.

“No, no,” Jim said, unable to resist the imploring gaze. “It’s just... hot.”

“It’s been sitting there for twenty minutes,” Simon put in. His own mug was empty.

“Spice-hot, Simon. Should’ve known better than to get cinnamon coffee. Bad enough that I came here, with all the smells.” His voice was low, but Jim suddenly realized that there was no way Blair could have missed hearing the explanation.

“Does vanilla bother you?” Blair asked, picking up Jim’s mug..

Jim smiled tightly. “Vanilla’s fine.”

Simon studied him, digging into his over-seasoned pastry. He studied Jim’s latest medical summary. This last doctor had about as many answers as the rest. None at all.

Blair set another ceramic mug onto Jim and Simon’s table.

“So how long have you had this cinnamon problem?” Blair asked. “Because the Benevolent Bean is willing to accomodate every dietary restriction!”

”Couple weeks,” Jim replied. He picked up the mug and sipped tentatively. A sigh of relief followed. Vanilla latte heaven. Smooth and rich and not at all dangerous. “A few days ago it was milk. Tasted like... cows. And grass.”

“Gross,” Blair agreed. “Well, I can’t fix the milk, but we do have an impressive selection of milk alternatives. Bring me your coffee problems, and I will fix them. He spread his arms expansively, a curly-haired god embracing the coffee-challenged.

“My hero,” Jim said. “I don’t suppose you can say the same about food. Thanks, Chief. I’ll keep that in mind.” Simon slurped noisily at Jim’s abandoned cinnamon coffee, giving him a “play nice with the press” look.

“I’m afraid the Bean doesn’t do dinner, but if you give me a call,” Blair slipped a business card onto the table in one smooth move, “perhaps I can make some suggestions.” He sauntered away, leaning in to speak to customers and smiling all the way.

“You are in so much trouble,” Simon said.

“Don’t I know it,” Jim replied. He flipped the business card over. There was a phone number scrawled on one side. The other read “Blair Sandburg: Urban Shaman and Coffee Expert.”

“Gonna call him?” Simon asked.

“Probably,” Jim replied, sipping down the last of his rather excellent coffee.

“For help, or for a date?” Simon asked. He tipped his head and gave Jim a knowing, over-the-glasses look.

Jim glanced up. Blair was doing a little be-bop shuffle as he waited on the coffee machine to stop gurgling. He looked down at the card.

“Both.”


End file.
